Today on Drabble Wednesday, what you see may not be as real as you think...
“I swear things were there, and then they weren’t. One minute a big ass SUV was parked in my neighbour’s driveway, and the next, poof, it was a just a regular old car. And then the house turned pink. Pink, man! What kind of weird ass shit turns a house pink? It’s crazy.”
The police detective sighed. “You take any drugs tonight?”
“No way! I ain’t on nothing! I swear! I wish I was, man!”
“Wait here.” The detective leaves. His boss waits outside the interview room.
“Another parallel universe incident?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll send him for a memory wipe.”
Edges slipping, the universal cracks widening, parallel atomic fault lines crashing. Rubbing together without sound or substance, still sliding open. Insignificant and yet infinite, waiting like a spider web. Or a trap.
I got too close.
I fell between.
Between worlds, between universes, co-existing and not. A human Schrödinger’s Cat. Alive and dead, one and two. One world breathing, the other bleeding. Straddling the line, pulled apart, put together, repeatedly.
Stuck in one moment on dual worlds for an eternity. And only for a second.
I close my eyes.
On one world I die.
On the other I wake up.
Walking off the World
They call it walking off the world. It’s when a space station worker loses his shit so bad he, or she, starts seeing things and hearing voices. Sometimes they crack up so hard they jettison themselves out an airlock.
Hence the nickname.
Hazards of the job the bosses tell everyone, sometimes the isolation cause metal instability.
But it isn’t true. Nobody on the station ever went crazy.
What they’re seeing, what they’re hearing, it is real. The station’s dead don’t leave. They stick around in whispers and visions.
I died, and I’m still here.
Care to join me?
© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved